


Backroom Deals

by dragonspell



Series: Dealmaking [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Closeted Character, Foot Fetish, Handcuffs, Hanzo's Dainty Little Ankles, Jesse McCree Has a Big Dick, M/M, Pre-Canon, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: “Oh.”  Jesse shifts on the chair, rattling the cuffs again, as his eyes dart helplessly downward, drawn by a kind of gravitational force.  “I was wondering if you might, uh, show me your ankles?”(Or, Jesse gets himself captured while trying to infiltrate a Shimada safe house and he and Hanzo reach a deal; Blackwatch-era, slight-AU; the foot fetish McHanzo that no one asked for)





	Backroom Deals

Jesse spits out the bit of blood that was pooling in his mouth and grimaces as he swallows the rest of it down. His entire face hurts--his split lip, his cheek that feels like an imprint of knuckles. He doesn’t think his nose is busted but it hadn’t been for a lack of trying.

He explores the cuffs that keep his arms behind his back, fingers sliding along the edges to see if he might feasibly be able to break free. It isn’t likely without something to pick them with but Jesse is no quitter. Hell, the prosthetic he has attached to his left should be good for something, shouldn’t it? The cuffs hold firm despite his struggles, rattling against the chair and his arm when he shakes them. He’d probably have better luck with the chair now that he thinks about it…

“I would not do that, Mr. McCree. If I were you.” Jesse whips his head around to look at the door. He hadn’t even heard the guy come in, but yet there he is, standing there at the door in a fancy suit, with his hair all done up. Must be some kind of ninja, Jesse thinks. He looks at the man’s shoes and follows his legs up over the expensive suit to the Rolex on his wrist. A very rich ninja. In disguise.

“How’d you know my name?” Jesse slurs. He swallows back a little more blood and runs his tongue over the split in his lip to test it. He really wants to ask the guy if he is, indeed, a ninja, but that might be a possible concussion talking. And maybe a bit of Reyes.

The man at the door slips off his coat, looking damn graceful while he does it, pulling it off like a model on the catwalk. Jesse would whistle but he thinks his lip might protest, so he just sits back and enjoys the show. With the coat gone, he gets a good view of the man’s solid build, clad in a blue button down. He’s got his hip popped to the side, his body forming a pleasing angle, and Jesse revises his earlier thought. A very rich ninja in disguise as a model. Or a ninja that is a model? It doesn’t seem very ninja-y to be going around getting your picture taken, but Jesse isn’t going to judge.

“The same way that I know that you’re from Blackwatch,” the man replies. He carefully folds his coat and places it on the chair by the door.

Well, damn. There goes another one of Jesse’s secrets and it wasn’t even beat out of him because he didn’t share _nothing_ with the big knuckled goons from before. They might be scary but Gabriel Reyes will always be scarier in Jesse’s eyes. He knows better than to go blabbing his mouth just because he’s been caught and used as a punching bag. He supposes, though, that the fact that he works for Blackwatch isn’t too much of a secret for those in the know that are used to looking beneath the surface of things. He isn’t exactly stealthy in his usual dealings. Hard to be when you like to go around wearing spurs.

“And you are?” Jesse asks, happy that his voice sounds clearer and less like he got ran over by a train. He’ll admit that he’s intrigued by the ninja model. The man’s pretty enough to look at, at any rate, and Jesse doesn’t mind his voice none, either. It’s low and smooth, like a big jungle cat. Or how Jesse imagines a big jungle cat would sound like if it could talk. 

Jesse would like to sink his hands into the man’s hair and play a little, see how long it is when it’s down. The cuffs rattle as his hands move to do just that before he remembers.

The man cocks his head and stares at Jesse with his pretty eyes, a considering look twisting that plush mouth of his. He undoes the clasp on his fancy watch and slides it off his wrist to lay it gentle-like on top of the coat. “You may call me Hanzo, Mr. McCree,” he says finally and Jesse blinks real slow, wondering if he’d heard that wrong. A man in a rich suit that moves like air and goes by the name Hanzo. Jesse has really stepped in it this time. 

This is probably going to be his last ride. He takes a moment to come to terms with that. Then he smiles because, Hell, just because the man’s here to kill him doesn’t mean that they have to be rude to one another. And the man did just introduce himself. “You can call me Jesse.” There’s probably blood on his teeth, but seeing as how Hanzo’s goons were the ones that put it there, the man shouldn’t have anything to complain about.

Hanzo nods, his eyes darting downward in a little show of respect, good manners briefly overriding the fact that he’s talking to a spy he’d caught sneaking into one of his safe houses. “Jesse, then,” Hanzo murmurs and, oh, Jesse likes how his name sounds on Hanzo’s lips. That’s just not fair. Introducing him to a man that checks off all of Jesse’s boxes like this just for Jesse to bite the dust. Still. At least he gets to see that pretty face as he goes out. Jesse supposes there are worse ways to die.

So he might as well get this over with then. “You’re a Shimada.” Hanzo’s eyes flick back up and for a minute, Jesse supposes that he’s surprised though his face doesn’t give away much.

“I am,” Hanzo confirms. Ah, see, now Jesse knows he’s a dead man, because why else confirm that the it’s the heir apparent standing in front of him unless Jesse isn’t going to live to see the sunrise.

“You sure are pretty.” Hanzo draws back a little, a tiny duck of his chin and a tightening of his shoulders, and Jesse chalks it up as a win in his book, especially given the way that Hanzo’s eyes had widened just a bit. The hell with it, Jesse thinks. If he’s going to die, then he’s going out how he likes. He won’t give out any information because he ain’t no traitor, but a little fraternizing with the enemy will be just fine. Reyes doesn’t have to know.

“Is that so,” Hanzo replies. Jesse nods.

“Prettier than a flower patch,” Jesse says and lays it on thick. “Darlin’, you must make angels weep in envy, ‘cause they ain’t got nothin’ on you.”

Hanzo’s eyebrows reach for his hairline before coming back down when Hanzo schools his face back to that blank slate of his. “Flattery will not save your life, Mr. McCree.”

“Oh, Darlin’, I thought you said you were going to call me Jesse. Tell the truth, I kind of liked how it sounded when you said it.” Jesse’s grin widens. “And I’m not telling you all this to get you to spare me or nothin’, I’m just being honest. Prettiest man I ever did see.”

“You’re an odd man, Jesse.” Hanzo undoes the cuff of a shirt sleeve, gradually rolling it up his arm and giving Jesse a show as he bares his forearm. 

“Oh, see, better than angels singing, hearing you say my name. And who’s to say what’s normal, really?” Jesse leans back in his chair and takes stock of Hanzo again, sliding his eyes down the man’s body. He’s seen pictures. Hanzo Shimada has got some of the most delicate little ankles Jesse’s ever seen in his life and he ain’t going to lie, that’s a bit of a thing for Jesse. He ain’t ashamed—well, too much. He doesn’t go around blabbing about it and he ain’t ever exactly done anything besides whacking off to the thought but, he’s honest enough with himself. Delicate ankles and those feet—maybe he can get Hanzo to lift up his pant leg a little and show Jesse. Take off his shoes, if Jesse asks politely. Sort of as a last request. Send Jesse to Heaven before he descends down into Hell. That’d be real nice. “There’re folks out there who would think that we’re both mighty strange.”

Hanzo pauses on his next sleeve, just a hint of a tattoo peaking out and, oh, that’s nice too. Jesse likes tattoos, especially when they’re painted on as a pretty of a canvas as Hanzo Shimada. “Are you calling me strange, Jesse?”

“My kind of strange,” Jesse answers honestly.

Hanzo shakes his head and finishes rolling up his sleeve. Jesse can see the swirls of a dragon before it disappears under Hanzo’s shirt. He’d like to see more. “Before we get started,” Jesse says, “I was wondering if you could do something for me.”

“I told you that flattery will not save your life, Jesse.” Hanzo sounds almost regretful, which is an interesting development.

“Nah, nothing like that,” Jesse says, shaking his head. “I just wanted to see more of your tattoo.”

Hanzo flattens a hand to his arm. “My tattoo.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty.”

“It is a mark of a Shimada.” It’s stated flatly, and Jesse gets the feeling that it’s covering a whole pit of rattlesnakes. 

“Could I still see it?” he asks anyway. “Come on, Darlin’, humor a dying man.”

Hanzo blinks at him, then raises his hands to start in on the top button of his shirt, quickly working his way down. Jesse tries not to squirm in his seat like an over eager puppy but damned if that’s not what he feels like. Each inch of Hanzo’s skin feels like a hidden treasure that Jesse’s getting a glimpse of and he eagerly follows the parting of that blue fabric. Hanzo untucks his shirt and pulls it off his shoulders, still as graceful as a ninja, even though he’s rougher on the shirt than he was on his coat. Hanzo’s face is set in its blank slate as he stares at Jesse like he’s issuing a challenge.

Jesse’s sort of, maybe, a little hard because of it.

The shirt comes off completely, giving Jesse a full view of not only Hanzo’s tattoo, but his upper body as well and Jesse is not unappreciative. Hanzo thrusts his arm towards Jesse, as if daring him to look, and Jesse gladly follows the intricate lines upward, eyes tracing the twining dragons, then slides over to the rest of Hanzo’s chest. He’d like to get his mouth around a nipple and suck. He bets Hanzo would moan real pretty.

“Well?” Hanzo barks and Jesse snaps his eyes back up to his face. Right. Jesse’s being rude.

“Oh, it’s nice. It’s good work, whoever done it. Looks good on you. But I suppose that everything does, doesn’t it?”

Jesse’s face stings, his head jerking to the side, and it takes a few moments for him to process the fact that Hanzo had just slapped him. His jaw slowly opens, his face contorting around the slow, heartfelt, “ _Ow, Darlin’_ ,”

“Keep a civil tongue in your head,” Hanzo snaps.

Jesse huffs a laugh, regretting it when his bruised ribs convey their solid disapproval of that. Only a damn Shimada would demand respect from a fella before killing him. “I was tryin’ to, Darl—” Hanzo smacks him again. “Oh, okay. We’re starting now?”

Hanzo spins on his heel, heading over to the table against the wall that Jesse’s already been introduced to. “You will know when I start.” He studies the instruments assembled there while Jesse studies his backside. It’s as fine as the rest of him.

“Sure thing, Honeybee.” Jesse figures that he’s already in it, he might as well just stick his whole head under, too. “I was wondering if you might just do one more thing for me, though.” Hanzo whirls on him, his face a thundercloud and, oh, yeah, Jesse’s pushing boundaries and Hanzo’s going to take it out of his hide before the night is through. “That is, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I mind.”

“Oh,” Jesse says and shuts his trap because scoundrel or not, his mama, bless her soul, raised him to have some decency. Hanzo’s still looking at him, though, like he’s expecting something.

“Well?” Hanzo snarls. Jesse blinks at him. “What is your ‘request’ this time, Jesse McCree?”

“Oh.” Jesse shifts on the chair, rattling the cuffs again, as his eyes dart helplessly downward, drawn by a kind of gravitational force. “I was wondering if you might, uh, show me your ankles?”

“What?” Hanzo’s mouth doesn’t close after he says the word, like he’s too stunned to remember that it’s open.

In for a penny, Jesse figures, and tosses all of his cards on the table. “I’ve got a bit of a thing and, you know, I won’t scream or nothing if you just give me a look—unless you like that sort of thing, then I’ll scream all you want—”

“Are you _bargaining_?”

“No, Darlin’, I’m asking for a _favor_.” A bit of an outrageous one that he won’t exactly be able to pay back but, hell, he’s a dead man anyway, so what does Hanzo expect? “A ‘last request’, you know?”

“You already got your last request.”

“Oh, just a _look_ , Darlin’, that’s all I’m asking for.” Though, if Hanzo wouldn’t mind twirling around on them a little bit, that’d be alright, too.

“I will _not_ get naked for your _amusement_ , Jesse McCree,” Hanzo shouts and, yes, okay, Jesse hears that one loud and clear. Hanzo storms over and Jesse’s not reminded of anything besides a goddamned dragon coming for him. His stomach flips over in abject terror, but his dick is rock hard. Reyes always did say that Jesse was wired screwy somewhere. Hanzo stops in front of him, glaring, and Jesse swallows as he watches the anger roll off of Hanzo. “You have a ‘thing’, Jesse?” he asks. By the rage threading through the words, though, Jesse gets the feeling that he’s not really wanting an answer. “A ‘fetish’, is that the word?” He lifts a foot and jams it into Jesse’s inner thigh and, oh. Oh, _God_ … Jesse bites back a whine and stares helplessly at where Hanzo’s foot is inches away from his crotch.

Whacking off to the thought couldn’t possibly compete with the real thing and Jesse’s in over his head with just one little move. He wants it bad. If Hanzo were to just slide his foot up a little more, Jesse could die a happy man.

“Look at you. Writhing like a whore. Like a bitch in heat.” Each rough word comes out like it’s bitten off, like Hanzo’s not used to giving voice to such language and that makes them that much hotter. Jesse slumps down in the chair, edging Hanzo’s foot up his leg himself. “You want it that badly, Jesse?” Oh, that’s more of a damn _purr_. This is the hottest damn thing that Jesse’s ever done in his life and he’s getting it from a mob boss about to kill him. Reyes was right; Jesse _is_ messed up. “Do you?”

“Oh God,” Jesse whimpers, beyond simple things like shame and dignity. “Yes. Yes, please, I want it.”

“What happened to all of your flattery, cowboy?” Hanzo taunts. His foot hikes a little more up Jesse’s leg, pressing into the crease between his thigh and groin.

Jesse moans, his eyes sliding closed. “Oh, sugar pie, if you like it, I’ll say whatever you like, just as long as you—oh _God_.” Jesse’s words stutter to a halt as Hanzo presses down against the center of his crotch, grinding into Jesse’s cock. It is the most painful pleasurable thing that Jesse has ever felt and he thinks he might just be about to come. He’s seeing stars already.

“You weren’t joking,” Hanzo says neutrally, his voice no longer a purr but not the rageful bark, either. “You really do have a fetish.” He taps his foot and Jesse bucks up into it.

“Why would I _lie_?” Jesse whines pitifully. “It’s an embarrassing thing to own up to. You think that I’d make that up?” Hanzo lets off the pressure, letting Jesse finally find the will to breathe again. It’s only so that he can tease the toe of his shoe against Jesse’s hard cock, though. Sneaky bastard.

“So you do this a lot, Jesse? Get Asian men to step on you?” Jesse shakes his head, a quick back and forth, because words are a tricky thing right now. “Men in general, then? Or women?” Hanzo’s foot gives a little kick and Jesse curls forward, instinctively protecting himself as best as he can. His eyes snap open and dart up to Hanzo’s face. Hanzo looks down at him like an impassive god, the keys to Jesse’s existence held casually in the palm of his hand. Foot. Whatever.

“I ain’t…” Jesse takes a quick breath. “I ain’t ever done this before,” he admits. He uncurls and spreads his legs as wide as he can get them, deliberately exposing himself to Hanzo. Whatever the man wants to do. Jesse’s hoping for a few things in particular, but he won’t get presumptuous, just give the man a nice target and hope that he’s feeling generous. Hanzo nudges his foot against Jesse’s cock again, pressing into the head and Jesse groans.

“You expect me to believe that I am the first person you have ever asked?”

Jesse licks his lips as he pushes himself more firmly against Hanzo’s foot. His eyes flutter. “I didn’t ask you for this, Darlin’. I just wanted a peek at your ankles. Not that I’m not…mighty appreciative.” Hanzo gives him a little more pressure. Jesse shamelessly wiggles against it. A bitch in heat was right. “I just wanted a peek at Heaven before you sent me to Hell is all. I didn’t expect the chance to get inside those pearly gates.”

He must have said something wrong because Hanzo takes his foot away, putting it back on the floor. Jesse whimpers and slips to the edge of the chair. “Oh, just a, just a little more there, pumpkin pie, I’m begging you.” He jumps as Hanzo roughly palms his dick, running his hand up over the constricted bulge in his pants. Hanzo contemplates Jesse’s crotch for a moment then turns and heads out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. “Oh, what the hell,” Jesse grumbles. He ain’t never heard of a man dying of blue balls before, but he just might be the first. He wouldn’t put it past Hanzo Shimada to know the secret.

Left alone in the dark room as he is, Jesse shifts irritably, enjoying the ache of his hard-on even as he finds it irritating. _Think of it this way, Jesse, my boy,_ he tells himself, _you finally got a chance to try that. You’re only going to live maybe a few more hours but at least you won’t go out wondering if the foot thing was just a fluke or not._ It’s cold comfort, but it’s what he’s got. Reyes has always said that Jesse was sure to find himself in a hole in the ground sooner than not. Morrison would temper it with a ‘so get better’ attitude and prettier words, but he’d always agreed with Reyes, and how was that, the guy representing all that salvation and sunshine agreeing with his death-dripping other half. It was inevitable that he’d end up like this, Jesse figures. Just his lot in life. He sits up straight and waits, making what peace he can. It’s a bit harder now considering he’s all riled up and got time to think, but Jesse thinks that he’ll be okay when the time comes.

When the door opens again, Jesse’s expecting a goon with a blindfold and a gun or at least another big-fisted gorilla, but it’s Hanzo, still shirtless and coming in with a small plastic bag that he sets on the floor next to Jesse’s feet. Jesse peers at it then looks back up at Hanzo. Hanzo looks…a little excited. His breathing is faster than it was, made obvious by his partial nudity, and there’s a bit of fire in his eyes that makes Jesse’s insides start to smolder in response.

“You’re back, Darlin’,” Jesse drawls. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“You know who I am,” Hanzo replies and it’s incongruent to what Jesse said to him. Jesse nods, confused, but willing to play along. Hell, he’s got nothing left but time here. “Then you know that ordinarily, you would never see me at all.”

That seems significant. “I was wondering why the heir apparent was attending to little old me,” Jesse confesses, “but then I figured that maybe y’all just liked to get your hands dirty. And I wasn’t going to say no to such a pretty little sweetpea like yourself.”

The corners of Hanzo’s lips quirk into a quick smile before he smoothes them back down. “I don’t like to ‘get my hands dirty’ as you say. I am not my father nor my uncles.”

“You’re Hanzo,” Jesse says for him. He’s not sure where this is going, but he thinks he understands a bit of Hanzo’s point.

“Precisely. And I…” Hanzo’s eyes drop down Jesse’s body then crawl back up. It makes Jesse about ready to start baying at the moon, he’s getting so stirred up. “I want different things.” 

Hanzo lapses into silence. “What are we talking about here, sugar?” Jesse asks.

“A deal.”

“A deal?” Well, if that didn’t have Jesse more curious than a cat seeing rustling in the corn field.

“You’re going to have to elaborate a little more on that, buttercup, because I’m a mite confused right now.” But damned if he’s not interested.

Hanzo strides over to the door and locks it before grabbing the chair. He dumps his things onto the floor, watch clattering noisily, and Jesse’s eyebrows rise. So much for neat and proper. Hanzo sets the chair in front of Jesse, directly between his legs, and perches himself on it, too graceful to slump into it like Jesse would. Jesse lets his eyes trail appreciatively over Hanzo’s half-naked body again. He thinks he might like where this is going, but he doesn’t want to jinx it.

“A deal, cowboy,” Hanzo says and kicks off both of his shoes. Oh, Jesse thinks weakly, his blood heading firmly south again. Yeah, he might definitely be interested in this. To drive the point home, Hanzo plants a foot on Jesse’s chair, between his legs, and Jesse can’t look away. He eyes Hanzo’s foot clad in his expensive sock and thinks about how it might feel nudging up against his cock. 

“I’m listening,” Jesse mumbles to Hanzo’s foot because it’s got his full attention. Hanzo slides his foot closer to Jesse’s crotch, flexible toes and soft sole and Jesse’s about to lose his damn mind here. This is honestly worse than the torture part earlier was, he thinks.

…Unless this _is_ torture? Jesse swallows and looks up at Hanzo’s eyes, well aware that his face is flaming red. Hanzo’s little smirk makes him flush that much harder. “What do you want for it, Darlin’?” Jesse asks.

Hanzo frowns and glances away. He braces himself on the chair, hands gripping the edge of the seat to keep his foot still poised in the air. “You said it yourself, I am the heir apparent.” He drops his attention to the bag on the floor. “I am…watched. Constantly. And there are certain things that I desire.” Jesse’s heart threatens to drown out Hanzo’s quiet confession and he strains to keep his ears trained to Hanzo’s voice. “My brother, he does as he pleases, but me. I have a…duty. Honor. And my family would not consider the things that I want to be honorable.” A small blush stains Hanzo’s cheeks, a bit of shame, a bit of something else, and it’s prettier than a sunrise as far as Jesse’s concerned.

And Jesse gets it. He does. “You mean you want to fuck me,” he states, cutting right through Hanzo’s dancing around the subject.

Hanzo’s mouth twists in distaste. “I would not have phrased it in that way.” Oh, and that just makes him even prettier, flinching away from a word like ‘fuck’ like that.

“Uh huh,” Jesse says, his lips pulling into a grin. “And in return, you wiggle your pretty little toes against my dick?”

Hanzo drops his foot back to the floor, tucking it underneath the chair. The blush on his face deepens. “I could maybe also accidentally leave the door unlocked when I leave. No one has to know it was me. Perhaps the great Jesse McCree picked the lock after freeing himself from his handcuffs.”

Well, Jesse would have settled for the foot job, but this is starting to sound like a deal he can’t turn down. “You’d let me escape.”

“You have no information for us, none that you will not take to your grave at any rate, and I am reasonably sure that we were not your target.”

Jesse nods. “True.”

“So there is little benefit to killing you. It would be a…” Hanzo’s gaze darts towards Jesse’s crotch, then shoots away again. “…A waste.”

“Oh, _Darlin’_ ,” Jesse drawls, sliding forward to display himself again. “You’ve got no idea.” Hanzo keeps his eyes trained on the ground, but his blush is spreading down his neck. Jesse knows that he’s listening. “’Cause it’s _big_.”

Hanzo stands, spinning himself around the chair to put it between him and Jesse like Jesse is some big bad wolf out on the prowl—not too bad of a comparison now that he thinks it about it, though. Jesse licks his lips, chuckling at how Hanzo’s eyes track the movement of his tongue. “Do we have a deal?” Hanzo asks.

“Mmm, you fuck me—use me, whatever you like—and in return, you help me escape. Are those the terms?” Hanzo nods. “Plus you’ll press those dainty little feet of yours to my cock?” Hanzo makes a choking noise but nods again. “Oh, yeah, Darlin’. I’d say that you have a deal, then.”

Hanzo stays behind the chair, his hands gripping the back hard enough to whiten his knuckles. “You gonna come over here and touch me?” Jesse asks. He rattles the cuffs. “I’d do it myself, but, you know.” He can visibly see Hanzo gathering up his courage to come around the chair and it’s hot as hell. “Though, Hanzo,” he nods at Hanzo’s pants, “lose the pants.” Like Hell is Jesse missing out on a chance to see the dainty little ankles that are attached to Hanzo’s dainty little feet.

Hanzo stares at the floor as he undoes his belt, the buckle clinking to the side. The zipper of his slacks echoes in Jesse’s ears and he sits back to watch Hanzo strip. It’s better than any nudie show. He likes how Hanzo’s hands hesitate along the waistband, how his fingers dip in and pause, like he has to work himself up to baring himself this way, before he edges his pants down over his hips, revealing one inch of smooth, flawless skin at a time. Jesse swallows back the drool as Hanzo finally lets his pants drop to the floor, standing in front of Jesse in nothing but a pair of black boxer-briefs, the crotch bulging outward. “Oh, honeysuckle,” Jesse breathes. “You look good enough to eat.” He was right. Hanzo does have the prettiest ankles he’s ever seen. Jesse’s getting hot just looking at them. Hanzo shudders—slight, but enough for Jesse to catch. “Like that? I’m full of ideas.” He grins wolfishly. “How about you come on over and let me get my mouth on you?”

Three steps is all it takes for Hanzo to be back between Jesse’s legs and Jesse leans forward to press his mouth against Hanzo’s chest, tasting his smooth skin. Hanzo’s breath hitches, body trembling under Jesse’s lips, and Jesse kisses his way upward, following the lines of muscle. He runs his tongue under the edge of Hanzo’s breast, tracing the hard curve up and around, then sliding over to follow up on an earlier thought and latching onto a nipple. Hanzo gasps, a hand sinking into Jesse’s hair to hold him steady as Jesse sucks. Jesse hums in approval and gives the bud a few licks with his tongue before making sure the other one doesn’t get jealous, running a wet line across Hanzo’s chest. Hanzo moans.

Jesse kisses more of Hanzo’s chest, using his tongue and teeth and mouth to draw out more noises, more shudders. He pauses at the edge of Hanzo’s tattoo, tongue skating along the edge. “Why don’t you let your hair down for me, Darlin’?” Hanzo’s hand flies upward and gives a quick pull to unleash piles of black silk that cascade across Hanzo’s shoulders. “Beautiful,” Jesse mumbles into Hanzo’s skin.

Hanzo steps away, leaving Jesse hanging in mid-air and Jesse would complain if he didn’t like the view so much. Chest heaving, flushed all the way down to his shoulders, with his hair loose, Hanzo looks like a debauched angel, a little personal wet dream come floating down from the Heavens. “You’re as pretty as a filly in the moonlight, ain’t ya?” Jesse says. 

Hanzo drops back down into the chair, his eyes trained on Jesse’s crotch. “Socks on or off?” he asks and Jesse has a hard time following for a moment before his brain finally catches up and demands to know what’s taking so long.

“Oh, off, Darlin’,” Jesse purrs. “Definitely off.” He watches eagerly as Hanzo removes yet another bit of clothing, the socks falling to the floor one by one. Jesse bites his bottom lip as he stares at Hanzo’s bare toes, feeling his stomach flip and knot at how they wiggle. Cautiously, Hanzo slides his foot over to Jesse’s crotch, much gentler than he was before, and Jesse leans back against the rungs of the chair with a loud groan. His legs tremble as he shifts forward and holds them apart. Hanzo’s toes slide over the bulge of his cock and Jesse inhales with a pleading whine. “Oh, Honeybee,” he moans. “You’re going to kill me…”

“Not yet,” Hanzo mutters and rubs his foot a little harder against Jesse. It’s damn perfect.

Hanzo’s foot leaves and Jesse feels a tugging at his waist. He looks down to see Hanzo undoing his belt, the heavy buckle thudding onto Jesse’s thigh and Jesse’s torn between arousal and regret. “That’s all I get?” he asks mournfully.

“Be quiet,” Hanzo tells him, a hand on Jesse’s zipper. “Or you will get nothing.”

Jesse grins. He’s always had a bit of a problem with authority, but he thinks he likes taking these kinds of orders from Hanzo. “Oh, sir, yes, sir,” he murmurs and seals his lips.

Doesn’t stop him from moaning when Hanzo reaches into his pants to pull his dick out. Jesse tries to bite the noise back, but it comes out anyway, followed by a few more that sound increasingly desperate as Hanzo’s long fingers caress the newly freed shaft. Jesse fights off the urge to come as Hanzo strokes softly over the head, pulling gently at the already leaking slit and playing with the bit of slick that he finds there. “Oh, _God_ ,” Jesse whimpers, “Hanzo, I’m going to _come_ if you keep that up.”

“I thought I told you to be quiet, did I not?” Hanzo pauses in his exploration of Jesse’s dick and Jesse nods hurriedly. “Then be quiet.” His hand wraps firmly around Jesse, stroking him all the way down to the root and back up and Jesse chokes off a whine. He jerks in Hanzo’s hold, casting his hips to the side and nearly pulling himself out of Hanzo’s hand because the pleasure is almost too much for him to take. Realizing his error, he corrects and shoves himself back into that warm, tight circle, but it’s too late because Hanzo lets his cock drop against his stomach and shifts away. Jesse plants his feet and arches upward, back to begging.

“Oh please,” he whimpers. “Touch it again. Touch it again, Hanzo.”

“You are too eager,” Hanzo chastises. The words fall like a whip across Jesse’s skin. “Calm yourself, Jesse.”

Jesse takes a few deep breaths, trying to listen to the order, but it all goes out the window when Hanzo, the goddamned hypocrite, puts his foot back in Jesse’s lap. With nothing between his dick and Hanzo’s foot, Jesse is just about done for. Hanzo’s toes curl around his shaft, his big toe separating from the others a little to make room for Jesse and Jesse feels like an out of control train. He bucks upward, his hips jackhammering into Hanzo’s foot, seeking the end of the line. He’s panting like a steam engine, his arms straining against the rails of the chair and it’s good. It’s so good. 

Jesse’s about ready to come when he finds himself humping nothing but air. “ _Hanzo_ ,” he whines. Hanzo stares back at him, flushed and breathing hard, both of his feet firmly on the floor.

“My turn,” Hanzo states and climbs into Jesse’s lap. The handcuffs clang as Jesse’s arms instinctively try to encircle the man now straddling him and he fights with them a little. Hanzo rests his fine little ass against Jesse’s thighs and braces himself with his hands on Jesse’s chest.

“That’s just not fair, Darlin’,” Jesse complains as Hanzo’s fingertips stroke across his shirt. “You touching me and me stuck here like this.”

“Get used to it,” Hanzo tells him, dismissing the complaint.

“Now, Honeybee—”

“Hush, Jesse, or I’ll find something that will make you quiet.” Hanzo’s fingers skim downward and reach under Jesse’s shirt to press themselves against his bare skin. They shift upwards, bracketing his dick that is still lying neglected along his stomach and head to the middle of his chest. “You are…” Hanzo pauses, contemplating his words. “You are big.” He glances down at Jesse’s dick, then comes back up and presses his mouth to Jesse’s neck. Jesse shivers, his nerves tingling at the feeling of Hanzo’s soft, wet lips against his skin, and the hint of tongue that shyly peeks between them.

“If you kissed me, that would shut me up,” Jesse says. “For awhile at least.” Hanzo peers at him, his pretty eyes not giving away how he feels about the suggestion even as Jesse’s wildly thumping heart gladly spills all of Jesse’s feelings about the matter. He can’t help it. Hanzo’s awfully damn pretty and Jesse, he’s always been a fan of kissing. “’Till you stopped kissing me.”

“If it will shut you up,” Hanzo mutters and sits up a bit more to press his plush lips to Jesse’s. Jesse groans and leans forward to give a little pressure back, moving his mouth slowly against Hanzo’s. There’s a soft noise that Jesse is startled to realize that it didn’t come from him and then Hanzo’s pressing harder, his head tilting to get a better angle. Hanzo’s hands raise to cup Jesse’s jaw, fingers feeling along the line of it before reaching back to tangle in his hair and cup his head. The press of Hanzo’s lips against his is sweeter than honey, and Jesse dares to taste a little more, flicking his tongue out to swipe along Hanzo’s bottom lip. Hanzo jolts, then moans softly, his mouth opening a fraction to allow Jesse entrance. Jesse’s not one to say no to such a welcoming invitation and swoops in, pushing between Hanzo’s teeth and tapping the tongue he finds inside. Hanzo responds, his tongue curling up to meet Jesse’s, and they slide slickly together.

Jesse’s panting when they break apart and Hanzo isn’t doing much better. Hanzo takes a shuddering breath then dives off of Jesse’s lap to rustle through the plastic bag on the floor. He strips off his underwear, tossing them to the side and as his cock bobs free, Jesse would be tempted to whistle if he didn’t know it would get him nothing but slapped. He wishes that his hands were free, that he wasn’t stuck in the damn chair, because he would get down on his knees and suck down Hanzo’s cock like it was top shelf whiskey at half-price. Jesse’s not an expert or anything, but in his opinion, Hanzo’s cock is the prettiest that he’s ever seen, and he’d like to get his mouth on it. “Sugar, I’d be a happy man to suck out your cream filling,” Jesse tells Hanzo earnestly.

“Shut _up_ , Jesse,” Hanzo replies and crawls his naked ass back into Jesse’s lap. All of Jesse’s instincts are telling him to reach out and grab, wrap his hands around those tight globes, and it galls him that he’s still stuck. The next best thing, though, is Hanzo rolling a condom down Jesse’s dick, sliding it all the way down and then raising himself up over it. 

“Oh _God_ ,” Jesse says, back to whimpering, because, no, he hadn’t seen this one coming. Hanzo’s going to be lucky if Jesse even makes it through him sitting back down because just the sight of Hanzo straddling him with intent has got Jesse about fit to burst. 

Hanzo shoves two fingers into Jesse’s mouth. “Suck,” he says. Jesse does as ordered, his eyes closing as he wraps his lips around Hanzo’s fingers. It’s not as good as it would be if it were Hanzo’s dick, but Jesse’s not about to complain. Hanzo spreads his fingers inside of Jesse’s mouth, playing with his tongue and Jesse mumbles a few ‘oh God’s and ‘honeysuckle’s around them. “You never shut up, do you?” Hanzo asks in amazement as he pulls his fingers out.

“Can’t help it that you get me hornier than a lone stallion at a breeding farm, Buttercup,” Jesse mutters. It’s not his fault that Hanzo is the stuff wet dreams are made of. How’s Jesse supposed to resist that?

“Let’s see how much of a stallion you are when I ride you.” Hanzo pops open a bottle of lube while Jesse flails underneath of him.

“Darlin’, you can ride this stallion right on to the moon,” Jesse promises, meaning it with all of his heart. He watches as Hanzo’s face contorts, a pang of sympathy lust streaking through him at the sight of Hanzo’s slack jaw and drawn up brow. Hanzo closes Jesse out for a moment, focusing on the feeling of opening himself but Jesse doesn’t mind because he still gets to watch the show. Hanzo’s arm moves as he maneuvers his fingers inside of himself and Jesse again wishes that his hands were free because he’d love to help Hanzo with lubing himself up.

Slippery fingers grip Jesse’s dick, making him throb, and Jesse groans as Hanzo lines him up then slowly sinks himself down. Every inch feels like another piece of Heaven sliding down onto Jesse and settling into his very soul. His legs tremble with the urge to thrust himself upward and bury himself in Hanzo’s tight heat but he keeps himself still. And it’s slow going. Hanzo’s obviously not used to taking much of anything and Jesse hadn’t been lying when he said he was big—bragging, sure, but not lying. He keeps his eyes on Hanzo’s face, watching every twitch and micro-expression that crosses his features, seeing the moment when pain and discomfort gives way to pleasure and a little bit of awe. It’s a little like watching the clouds part after a storm to reveal the sun. 

Jesse shudders as Hanzo fully seats himself on Jesse’s lap, twisting his hands in the cuffs to stop himself from bucking. “How’s…how’s it feel, Darlin’?” 

Hanzo slides his hands down his front, feeling himself up, and Jesse’s eyes just about pop out of his head. He’s got a sex kitten sitting on his dick. “It feels…” Hanzo trails off. “Good, I think.” He reaches down to grip his cock, wrapping it in a tight grip and slowly bounces himself upward, Jesse slipping back out until he nearly reaches the end. Jesse’s toes curl when Hanzo slides himself back down, encasing Jesse in all of that tight heat again.

Hanzo takes the time to explore how Jesse’s dick feels inside of him, rocking on top of it, giving a few more thrusts, and Jesse feels like he’s dying.

“Cripes, Darlin’,” Jesse mutters, “you have any idea how good you feel?” His hips give a little involuntary buck, slamming up into Hanzo before Jesse can stop them. “Sorry,” he says, bringing himself back down. His ribs twinge in protest and he shifts to take some of the pressure off of the side that’s hurting.

“Do that again,” Hanzo whispers. Jesse does and Hanzo tilts his head up, black silky hair spilling down over his back. For a view like that, Jesse’s willing to do just about anything. He repeat the motion and Hanzo’s hair bounces as he drives himself into Hanzo again. Hanzo moans as he strokes his cock with one hand and braces with the other. “Again, Jesse.” Jesse does.

Hanzo quickly picks up on his rhythm, thighs bunching in time with Jesse’s thrusts and Jesse strains underneath him, aiming to please but trying not to come as he does it—not until Hanzo does first. Jesse tries to measure his breathing, but it only does so much. A sweat breaks out under his clothes.

For a guy that doesn’t get much action, Hanzo seems to be in it for the long haul, apparently taking Jesse up on his offer to carry him to the moon. Jesse’s muscles start to protest with each thrust of his hips and Hanzo takes each and every one with a silent demand for more. Only Hanzo’s feverishly moving hand on his cock and the quiet working of his mouth gives him away. His lips part every so often, whenever Jesse gets in a particularly good stroke, his teeth then sinking into his bottom lip or his tongue swiping out to lick at the corners. 

“Darlin’,” Jesse begs, “Honeysuckle, I’m gonna come. Sugar, I can’t last much longer. I know you want it but, Buttercup, you feel too good—”

Hanzo’s back arches as he comes, his insides tightening around Jesse’s cock and Jesse whines pitifully and comes himself, slamming him up into Hanzo to empty himself into the condom. He pants, unable to catch his breath, and his heart races frantically.

On top of him, Hanzo hums, sounding so damned pleased that Jesse shudders as a shock of pleasure echoes through him. Hanzo chuckles, skating his hands over Jesse’s still clothed chest in long, soothing strokes.

Jesse breathes out a deep sigh and lets himself slump in the chair. He feels like he’s melted to it. “That good, huh?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” Hanzo answers. Jesse feels a bit of pride unfurling inside of him. “Also, I made a mess of your shirt.”

“You did what?” Jesse looks down and sees the splattered spots of white starkly contrasting with his dark shirt. “Well, hell.” Hanzo hums and presses his hands firmly up Jesse’s torso, fingers dipping along every ridge that he can find. Then lifts himself off of Jesse and stumbles to his feet. Jesse grimaces as his cock plops wetly onto his stomach, the condom a white mess on the other side of the latex. He glances over at Hanzo and sees that the man already has his pants back on, walking around like he hadn’t just been fucked in the ass good and proper. That’s not fair. Mighty hurtful to a man’s ego, that, if he can’t even get his partner to show a little bit of the effort that got put into the fucking.

Hanzo picks up his bag and his socks and heads to the door to grab up his shirt, coat, and watch too. “Hey, Darlin’, don’t forget about our deal,” Jesse says, part of him thinking that Hanzo might do just that.

“I won’t forget,” Hanzo replies. He walks back over with a key. He stops in front of Jesse and leans forward, pressing himself against Jesse again. Jesse’s lips part in anticipation of a kiss but Hanzo only quietly regards him. Jesse’s cuffs clank onto the floor and Hanzo pulls away. “I would hurry,” he says and he heads back to the door. “The guards will only be distracted for so long.” He glances back, eyes traveling down Jesse’s body, and smirks. “And you are not stealthy.”

“Hey, I’m plenty stealthy,” Jesse protests, but Hanzo walks out, leaving him alone in the room. “Yep, see you around, Hanzo.” He rubs his sore wrists and grimaces about the state of his shirt. Ah, well, it’s not the worst stain he’s ever worn. At least this one has some _good_ memories attached to it. His legs tremble when he stands, muscles complaining about having to move again so soon after a workout, but he steadies himself and puts it out of mind. He’s not Blackwatch for nothing, after all. And if Hanzo can do it, then he can too.

He carefully zips himself back up and heads for the door, spurs jingling with each step. Okay, so they weren’t stealthy. They were one hell of a fashion choice, though.

He heads out into the hallway and sees that the lights seem to only be working towards his right, leading towards an open door and a staircase. “Minx,” Jesse mutters, shaking his head, knowing that it was Hanzo showing him the way out.

The man himself is nowhere to be found, of course, ninja-ing himself somewhere or another. Jesse grins, though, when he reaches the door of the staircase. “I’ll be up for round two whenever you are, Darlin’,” he drawls and starts downstairs.

Technically, he failed the mission, but he can’t find it in himself to feel bad about that. It might be a different story once he has to report to Reyes, but right now, he’s feeling pretty damn good, bruises and all. 

“Bye, Honeysuckle,” he whispers as he hits the street and disappears into the darkness. He’s got a feeling that he’ll see Hanzo and his dainty little ankles again.

**Author's Note:**

> All my various WIPs and I end up doing 7.5k of foot fetish porn that no one asked for with a pairing that I've never written before. What the hell.


End file.
